Part 34

The leaders now thought of nothing but taking advantage of the terror with which they had inspired the Mussulmans. Masters of the cemetery, they pulled down the mosque, and employed the stones, even of the tombs, to build a fortress before the gate of the bridge by which the besieged made their sorties. Raymond, who had been accused of want of zeal for the holy war, constructed this fort and took charge of the perilous post. It was proposed to raise a new fortress near the first, and as none of the leaders came forward to erect it, Tancred offered his services,--a generous and loyal knight; he had nothing left but his sword and his renown. He asked his companions for money, and undertook the danger of the enterprise. All were eager to second his courageous devotion; the works he directed were soon finished; and from that time the besieged were closely shut up within the inclosure of their walls.

The Crusaders having thus blockaded the city, seized the Syrians who had been accustomed to bring provisions to Antioch, and only spared their lives upon their swearing to supply the Christian army. Learning that Accien had sent away a great many of his horses to a valley some leagues from the city, they repaired thither by by-roads, and gained possession of the rich booty. Two thousand horses and as many mules were led in triumph to the Christian camp.

Many of the Genoese and Pisans were skilful engineers, and they were employed in directing the labours of the siege. Machines of war were built, and Antioch was threatened on all sides. Whilst despair supplied the place of courage with the Saracens, zeal and emulation increased among the Crusaders; many whom want or fear had driven away, returned to their standards, and sought every opportunity of wiping out the disgrace of their desertion. The besiegers no longer thought of repose, and breathed nothing but fight. The women seconded the valour of the warriors; some fought by their sides in the ranks, whilst others supplied them with food and munitions when they were engaged. The children even formed bands, and went through their military exercises. The inhabitants of Antioch opposed their children to those of the Christians, and several times these young combatants engaged in the presence of the besiegers and the besieged, who took an interest in the fight, and animated their party by voice and gesture when they appeared to give way.

There was formed at the same time another militia, much more formidable to the Saracens. The mendicants and vagabonds who followed the army were employed in the labours of the siege, under the orders of a captain, who took the title of _Truand_ King, or King of the Beggars. They received pay from the general chest; and as soon as they were in a condition to purchase arms and clothes, the king denied them as his subjects, and made them enter into one of the corps of the army. This measure, whilst removing the vagabonds from their dangerous idleness, made useful auxiliaries of them. As they were accused of violating graves and feeding on human flesh, they inspired great horror and fear among the infidels, who fled away at their approach.

Antioch was so warmly pressed, and the garrison had so little means of defence, that the Crusaders expected every day to be masters of it. Accien demanded a truce, and promised to surrender if not speedily succoured. The Crusaders, always full of blind confidence, had the imprudence to accept the proposals of the governor. As soon as they had made a truce with the Saracens, the leaders of the army, who seldom agreed anywhere but in the field of battle, and whom danger even could not always unite, were on the point of declaring war among themselves.

Baldwin, prince of Edessa, had sent some magnificent presents to Godfrey, the two Roberts, the count de Vermandois, and the counts of Blois and Chartres; he had distributed sums of money to the whole army; but in bestowing his largesses, he had purposely left out Bohemond and his soldiers. This was quite enough to create a division. Whilst the Christian army was loud in the praises of the liberality of Baldwin, the prince of Tarentum and his warriors breathed nothing but complaints and murmurs.

At the same time, a richly ornamented tent, which an Armenian prince destined for Godfrey, and which, falling into the hands of Pancratius, was sent to Bohemond, became a fresh subject of trouble and discord. Godfrey haughtily claimed the present which had been intended for him; Bohemond refused to give it up. Both parties proceeded to abuse and threats; they were eager to have recourse to arms, and Christian blood was about to flow in a contemptible quarrel. But at length the prince of Tarentum, abandoned by the greater part of the army and conquered by the prayers of his friends, surrendered the tent to his rival, consoling his vexation with the hope that the chance of war would soon bestow upon him a much richer booty.

Whilst these quarrels occupied the Christian army, the inhabitants of Antioch received reinforcements and prepared for a fresh resistance. When they had obtained all they stood in need of, they broke the truce and recommenced the war with all the advantages a foolishly-granted peace had given them.

Antioch, after a seven months’ siege, would have escaped the hands of the Christians, if cunning, policy, and ambition had not done more for their cause than patience and valour had been able to do. Bohemond, whom the hopes of bettering his fortunes had drawn into the crusade, was always on the watch to realize his projects. The success of Baldwin had roused his jealousy, and pursued him even in his sleep. He ventured to cast his eyes upon Antioch, and was sufficiently favoured by circumstances to find a man who had it in his power to place that city in his hands. This man, who was named _Phirous_, was the son of an Armenian, a maker of cuirasses. Of a restless, uneasy character, he was constantly in hopes of changing his condition. He had abjured the Christian religion in a spirit of inconstancy and with the expectation of advancing his fortune. He was endowed with wonderful coolness, with unconquerable audacity, and was always ready to do that for money which could scarcely be expected from the most ardent fanaticism. To satisfy his ambition and avarice, nothing appeared unjust or impossible. Being active, cunning, and insinuating, he had obtained the confidence of Accien, who admitted him to his counsels. The prince of Antioch had confided the command of three of his principal towers to him. He at first defended them with zeal, but without any advantage to his fortune: he grew weary of a sterile fidelity as soon as he was brought to think that treachery might be more profitable to him.

In the intervals between the battles he had had frequent opportunities of seeing the prince of Tarentum. These two men divined each other’s character at first sight, and were not long in coming to an understanding. Phirous complained of the outrages he had received from the Mussulmans; he lamented having abandoned the religion of Christ, and wept over the persecutions the Christians of Antioch endured. There required no more than this to make such a man as the prince of Tarentum acquainted with the secret thoughts of the renegade. He commended his remorse, approved of his sentiments, and made him most magnificent promises. Then Phirous opened his heart to him. They swore a mutual and inviolable attachment, and promised to keep up an active correspondence. They afterwards saw each other several times, but always with the greatest secrecy. At every interview, Bohemond told Phirous that the fate of the Crusaders was in his hands, and that it only remained with himself to obtain an immense recompense from them. On his side, Phirous protested that he had a great desire to serve the Crusaders, whom he looked upon as his brothers; and to assure the prince of Tarentum of his fidelity, or to excuse his treachery, he said that Christ had appeared to him and advised him to give Antioch up to the Christians. Bohemond had no need of a similar protestation. He had no trouble in believing what he wished for with so much ardour; and when he had agreed with Phirous upon the means by which the projects they had a long time meditated should be executed, he called an assembly of the principal leaders of the Christian army. He dwelt with great warmth upon the evils which to that period had desolated the Crusaders, and the yet greater evils with which they were still threatened. He added that a powerful army was advancing to the succour of Antioch; that they could not retreat without shame and danger; and that there was no safety for the Christians but in the conquest of the city. The place, it was true, was defended by inexpugnable ramparts; but they must be aware that all victories are not gained by arms or in the field of battle; that those which were obtained by address were neither the least important nor the least glorious. They who could not be conquered might be seduced, and enemies might be overcome by an adroit and generous enterprise. Among the inhabitants of Antioch, widely differing in morals and religion, opposite in interests, there must be some to be found who would be accessible to baits of gold or to brilliant promises. It concerned a service of such importance to the Christian army, that all sorts of attempts were justifiable. The possession even of Antioch itself did not appear to him to be too much to hold out as a reward to him who should be skilful or fortunate enough to throw open the gates to the Crusaders.

Bohemond did not explain himself more clearly, but several of the leaders, who, perhaps, entertained the same views, easily fathomed his meaning. Raymond, in particular, spoke strongly against the artful insinuations of the prince of Tarentum. “We are all,” said he, “brothers and companions in arms, and it would be unjust, that after having all run the same risk, one alone should gather the fruit of our labours. As for myself,” added he, casting a look of anger and contempt at Bohemond, “I have not traversed so many countries, and braved so many perils; I have not been prodigal of my blood, my soldiers, and my treasures, to pay with the price of our conquests some gross artifice, some disgraceful stratagem, the invention of which should be left to women.” As none of the Crusaders were actuated by a more palpable ambition, or by meaner or more sordid views than Bohemond of Tarentum and Raymond of Toulouse, they were upon all occasions at variance, and by their wrangling laid their characters open to the whole army. Raymond’s vehement words produced all the effect that might be expected among warriors accustomed to conquer by arms, and who valued no advantage that was not purchased by bravery. Most of the leaders rejected Bohemond’s proposals, and joined their railleries to those of Raymond. Bohemond, with his Ulyssian tact, did his best to conceal his vexation and malice. He left the council with a smile on his lip, perfectly satisfied that necessity would soon bring the Crusaders to his opinion.

He made it his first business to spread, by means of emissaries, the most alarming reports throughout the camp. Some of the leaders went out to reconnoitre, and to learn if there were any foundation for these rumours. They speedily returned, announcing the approach of Kerbogha, sultan of Mossoul, with an army of two hundred thousand men. This army, which had threatened Edessa and ravaged Mesopotamia, was within seven days’ march of Antioch. At this account the fears of the Crusaders were redoubled. Bohemond went among the ranks, exaggerating the peril; he affected more distress and terror than the rest, but in his heart he rejoiced at the idea of soon seeing his hopes accomplished. The leaders again assembled to deliberate upon the measures that ought to be taken under such perilous circumstances. Two opinions divided the council. Some proposed that they should raise the siege, and go and meet the Saracens; others, that the army should be divided into two bodies, one of which should march against Kerbogha, and the other remain in charge of the camp. This last advice was about to prevail, when Bohemond demanded permission to speak. He had not much difficulty in demonstrating the difficulties of both plans. If they raised the siege, they would be placed between the garrison of Antioch and a formidable army. If they continued the blockade, and half the army only went to meet Kerbogha, they would certainly risk a double defeat. “The greatest perils,” added the prince of Tarentum, “surround us. Time presses; to-morrow, perhaps, it will be too late to act; to-morrow we shall have lost the fruit of all our labours and all our victories. But no, I cannot think so; God, who has conducted us hither, will not permit that we should have fought in his cause in vain. He will save the Christian army, he will lead us to the tomb of His Son. If you will listen to the proposal I am about to make to you, to-morrow the standard of the cross shall float over the walls of Antioch, and we shall march in triumph to Jerusalem.”

On finishing these words, Bohemond exhibited the letters of Phirous, in which he promised to surrender the three towers he commanded. Phirous declared that he was ready to fulfil his promises, but that he would have nothing to do with any one but the prince of Tarentum. He required, as the price of his services, that Bohemond should remain master of Antioch. The Italian prince affirmed that he had already given considerable sums to Phirous; that he alone had obtained his confidence, and that a reciprocal confidence was the surest guarantee of success in so difficult an enterprise. “As to the rest,” added he, “if a better means of saving the army can be found, I am ready to approve of it, and will willingly renounce my share of a conquest upon which the safety of all the Crusaders depends.”

The peril daily became greater; it was disgraceful to fly, imprudent to fight, and dangerous to temporize. Fear put all the interests of rivalry to silence. The greater the opposition the leaders had at first shown to the proposals of Bohemond, the more abundant did they now find the reasons for adopting them. A divided conquest was no conquest; besides, a partition of Antioch might give birth to a thousand differences in the army, and lead to its ruin. They only gave away that which they did not possess, and they gave it to secure the lives of the Christians. Better one should profit by the labours of all, than that all should perish out of opposition to the good fortune of one. Besides, the taking of Antioch was not the great object of the Crusade; they had taken arms to deliver Jerusalem. Every delay was contrary to what religion hoped for from its soldiers, and to what the West expected from its bravest knights. All the leaders, except the inflexible Raymond, united in granting the principality of Antioch to Bohemond, and conjured him to press the execution of his project.

The moment he left the council, Bohemond informed Phirous of what had taken place, and the latter sent him his son as a hostage. The execution of the plan was fixed for the next day. To leave the garrison of Antioch in the greater security, the Christians were to quit their camp and direct their march towards the route by which Kerbogha’s army was expected, and were to return to the walls of Antioch during the night. The next day, at dawn, the troops received orders to prepare for their departure; they left the camp a few hours before nightfall, with trumpets sounding and ensigns flying, and after a short march retraced their steps, and came in silence towards Antioch. At a signal given by the prince of Tarentum, they halted in a valley west of the city, near the tower of the Three Sisters, commanded by Phirous. It was there that the secret of the great enterprise which was to open the gates to them was revealed to the Christian army.

These deeply-laid plans, however, were very near failing. At the moment the army left the camp, a report was circulated in Antioch that a plot was on foot. The Christians and newly-converted Mussulmans were suspected, and the name of Phirous was heard coupled with accusations of keeping up an intelligence with the besiegers. He was obliged to appear before Accien, who interrogated him sternly, with his eyes fixed upon him, to read his purpose in his countenance: but Phirous dispersed all suspicions by his self-possession. He himself proposed measures for detecting the traitors, if there were any; and advised his master to change the commanders of the principal towers. This advice was highly approved of, and Accien said he would follow it the next day. At the same time orders were issued to place all the Christians in the city in chains during the darkness of night. The renegade was then sent to his post, loaded with praises for his exactitude and fidelity. As night approached, everything appeared tranquil in Antioch, and Phirous, thinking his danger was over, awaited the Crusaders in the tower he had engaged to surrender.

As his brother commanded a tower next to his, he went to him, and endeavoured to draw him into the plot. “Brother,” said he, “you know that the Crusaders are gone to meet Kerbogha. When I reflect upon the miseries they have endured, and upon the death which threatens them, I cannot help entertaining a kind of pity for them. You are not ignorant that the Christian inhabitants of Antioch, after having suffered all sorts of outrages, are to be massacred by the orders of Accien. I cannot help pitying them, nor can I forget that we were born of the same religion, and were formerly brethren.” These words did not produce the effect Phirous expected. “I am astonished,” replied his brother, “that you should pity men who ought to inspire you with nothing but horror. Before the Crusaders arrived before Antioch, we were loaded with blessings. We have since passed our lives amidst dangers and alarms. May all the ills they have brought us recoil upon themselves! As for the Christians residing among us, don’t you know that they are almost all traitors, and only wish to deliver us to the swords of our enemies?” At these words he cast a threatening glance upon Phirous. The renegade saw that he was at least suspected. He acknowledged no brother in the man who refused to be his accomplice, and, as his only reply, plunged his dagger into his heart.

The decisive moment arrived. The night was dark, and a storm which had risen, considerably augmented the obscurity. The wind, which shook the roofs of the houses, together with the incessant peals of thunder, prevented the soldiers from hearing any noise round the ramparts. The sky looked inflamed towards the west, and the sight of a comet, which appeared above the horizon, seemed to announce to the superstitious minds of the Crusaders the moment destined for the destruction of the infidels. They awaited the signal with impatience. A Lombard, named Payen, sent by Bohemond, ascended the tower by a ladder of leather. Phirous received him, told him all was prepared, and, to convince him of his fidelity, pointed to the dead body of his brother. Whilst they were talking, an officer of the garrison came to visit the posts. He presented himself with a lantern before the tower. Phirous, without showing the least fear, concealed Bohemond’s messenger, and went forward to meet the officer. He received praises for his vigilance, and then hastened to send back Payen. The Lombard rejoined his comrades, and conjured Bohemond, on the part of Phirous, not to lose a moment.

But all at once a panic seized the soldiers: at the moment of execution, they perceived the full extent of the danger. Not one came forward to mount the ladder. In vain Godfrey and the prince of Tarentum employed by turns promises and threats: both leaders and soldiers remained motionless. Bohemond then ascended by a rope ladder, with the hope that his example would be followed by some of the bravest; but nobody felt it his duty to meet the risk. He arrived alone on the tower, where Phirous reproached him warmly for his tardiness. Bohemond redescended in haste, and told the soldiers all was ready to receive them. His words, but still more his example, at length revived the courage of the men. Sixty Crusaders prepared for the escalade. Encouraged by one Foulcher of Chartres, whom the historian of Tancred compares to an eagle conducting his young ones and flying at their head, they seized the ladder of leather and ascended the tower. Among these sixty was the count of Flanders, with many of the principal leaders. Sixty others soon followed the steps of the first, and these were followed by such numbers, and so precipitately, that the parapet to which the ladder was fastened gave way, and fell with a crash into the ditch. Those who were near the summit of the walls fell upon the lances and swords of their companions. All was confusion and disorder among the assailants; the leaders of the enterprise nevertheless looked on with a tranquil eye. Phirous, over the bloody body of his brother, embraced his new companions, gave up to their swords another brother who was with him, and put them in possession of the three towers confided to his command. Seven other towers soon fell into their hands. Phirous then called upon all the Christian army to advance; he fastened a fresh ladder to the rampart, by which the most impatient ascended, and pointed out to others a gate they could break in, and by which they entered the city in crowds.

Godfrey, Raymond, and the count of Normandy were soon in the streets of Antioch with their battalions. All the trumpets were sounded, and the four hills of the city resounded with the terrible cry, “_Dieu le veut! Dieu le veut!_” At the first report of the tumult, the Christian inhabitants of Antioch believed their last hour to be come, and that the Mussulmans were about to cut their throats. The latter, half-asleep, crawled from their houses to inquire the cause of the noise they heard, and died without knowing who were the traitors, or by what hand they were struck. Some, when aware of the danger, fled towards the mountain upon which the citadel was built; whilst others rushed out at the gates of the city. All who could not fly fell beneath the swords of the conquerors.

Notwithstanding the confusion, Bohemond did not fail to take possession of Antioch; and when day appeared, his red flag was seen floating over one of the highest towers of the city. At sight of this, the Crusaders left in charge of the camp uttered loud shouts of joy, and flocked to the city to partake of the new conquest. The slaughter of the Mussulmans was pursued with fury. The Christians, who had suffered much, exhibited their chains to their liberators, and increased their thirst for blood: the public places were covered with dead bodies, and blood flowed down all the streets. Every house and thing that was not marked with a cross was the object of their fury; all who did not pronounce the name of Christ were massacred without mercy.